


EYES ARE WATCHING

by AgnesClementine



Series: FIGHTERS OF THE GOOD FIGHT [2]
Category: Supernatural, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Drug Addiction, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 15:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18076412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: “So, you have a plan?”Diego shrugs, “Maybe. I mean, I can’t do anything but find who he is and…burn his remains.”“I guess not. Is the ghost trying to leech off you?”Diego shakes his head, glancing at Klaus, “No, my brother.”Dean is quiet and Diego imagines him shaking his head.“You guys really have shitty luck, you know that?”“Oh, I’m aware,” Diego replies dryly.***************************************************The one where a ghost wants a piece of Klaus and Diego is really not letting that happen.





	EYES ARE WATCHING

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel where I give you Klaus- hopefully not badly written- and Diego trying to not get killed by a ghost. Dean is acting like a moral support over a phone.
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

One new message.

Diego flips his phone open and opens the message without checking who it’s from. There’s only one person outside of his family that has his number anyway and as he’s at home at the moment, it’s not any of them.

‘ _Hey, if I order a pizza with corn, do you think I’ll have time to scrub off all the rougarou guts before it gets here?_ ’

Diego scrunches up his nose. ‘ _That’s disgusting_ ’, he types out, ‘ _everyone knows pineapple on pizza is better than corn._ ’

While he waits for a reply, he scoots closer to the edge of his bed and turns on a small radio on his bedside table. It buzzes to life, so he fiddles with a tiny antenna until the sound clears out. Night program, the news is on.

‘ _Heathen_ ’, Dean’s response says. Whatever, Diego would bet money that Sam agrees with him. Not that Dean would pass on the message; according to him, Sam and Diego are “ganging up on him too much and should not engage in any more communication.”

He’s ready to write as much when the radio reporter’s voice registers in his ears.

“-another horrifying, freakish accident took one more innocent life. In early hours of this morning, a man that, by all evidence, tripped over a phone cord in his apartment and Fell from a balcony on the street below has been found by a couple of bypassers. The nature of this awful happenstance arose various questions. Was this, and all other cases, really a freak accident? How many more will happen? How to stop them? And is this city really tipping over the edge of sanity? This, and much more, we will discuss in-“

Diego startles when his phone vibrates in his hand and he blinks at Dean’s, ‘ _You there?_ ’

‘ _Yeah, just listening to the radio._ ’

‘ _Ugh, tell me it’s not rock ballads._ ’

Diego rolls his eyes. You mention _I just died in your arms_ once because your brother is a lovesick puppy and it ends up haunting you forever.

‘ _News. Weird shit’s been happening recently._ ’

Dean’s response is almost immediate, ‘ _Weird shit like weird shit or weird shit like “weird shit”?_ ’

Diego has to read the question two times before it makes sense. ‘ _Dunno, just weird shit._ ’

This time it takes a bit longer for Dean to respond, but when he does, he does so via a phone call.

“Weird shit like _supernaturally_ weird shit or just weird shit?” Dean’s voice comes through over a sound of rustling.

“How the hell should I know?” Diego says back. His sense of weird shit is probably so messed up he wouldn’t notice it unless it smacked him in the face. Literally.

“Like, what-“ more rustling and a sound of bare feet padding over a smooth surface,”-kind of stuff happened? Is it normal weird or like freaky weird?”

Diego sighs, “I don’t know, these accidents have been happening all over the city and- _are you in a shower?_ ”

Dean huffs on the other side, “Hey, don’t judge me. I have a dinner on the way and about three layers of monster guts to wash off, I gotta multitask!”

“Whatever-“

“Also, if you wanna be specific, I’m not in the shower _yet_.”

“Like I said, there was just a lot of accidents lately. It’s weird.”

“Okay, what kind of accidents? People died?” Dean asks.

There is a rhythmic thudding above Diego’s head; a familiar pounding of feet trying and failing to sneak around the house in this late night hours. He rolls his eyes, wondering if Luther and Allison will ever learn that almost jogging up the stairs can’t possibly be soundless.

“Some did, yeah. Like, this guy that fell out the balcony after he tripped over his phone cord. And a few days ago, this woman legit died after her hand got stuck in garbage disposal ad she bled out.”

Dean whistles, “Damn,” a screeching noise of faucet turning and then the sound of water flowing, “do these people have something in common?”

“Like something that would make a pattern?” Diego wonders.

“Yeah.”

He tries to remember everything he heard about other casualties, “I think they were all around the same age. What are you getting at?”

Dean hums, “Well,” _scrubbing_ , “if they pissed off a ghost, it’s not uncommon for them to make murders look like accidents.”

“…Ghosts?” Diego asks doubtfully. As far as he knows, ghosts can’t actually hurt people; they don’t have bodies. Hell, they’re invisible. To most people.

“Uh-huh. Don’t get fooled, ghosts- I mean, poltergeists can get pretty damn nasty,” Dean tells him.

Diego chews at the inside of his cheek, thinking (worrying). He hasn’t heard from Klaus in a while…

“Diego? You following?”

“Hm? Sorry, I zoned out,” he apologizes, shaking his head to get rid of dark thoughts.

“Dude,” Dean says, mock offended, “I’m laying out some knowledge for you here.”

“Yeah, get on with it, _oh wise one_.”

Dean snorts.

“Like I was saying, poltergeists are nasty. And every one of them has their own way of offing people who pissed them off, so it’s not that easy to make sure you’re really dealing with a ghost,” Dean starts and Diego settles down more comfortably.

“And how do you make sure?”

“EMF detector. The temperature in the room suddenly drops. If they get real mad- and that's always, by the way- you can see them."

Diego blinks at his ceiling, “Wait. Like, _I_ can see them?”

“Yeah. The angrier the spirit, the more powerful it is. And the more powerful it is, well, the more visible he gets.” Dean says.

There is something strangely wrong in the thought of seeing ghosts. That’s Klaus’ thing. He’s got the right to peek behind the veil, even if he doesn’t want to; not Diego.

“Right. Well, what do you do when you make sure it’s a ghost? Poltergeist?”

He can hear the screech of a faucet again, and the water cutting off, then Dean’s feet hitting the tiles and fabric swooshing and rustling around.

“You find out who it was and salt and burn their bones," Dean says like he didn't just describe grave desecration.

“…of course. Is hunters motto like, just burn everything you come across?”

“Mostly, yeah,” Dean responds and whatever else he was going to say gets cut off by a noise like banging on the door and a muffled voice in the background.

“Shut it, Sammy,” Dean grumbles away from the speaker, then, “Welp, dinner is here. Let me know how it pans out. Night!” He hangs up before Diego can say anything else.

He sets his phone back on his bedside table and sighs.

He’s pretty sure they have an EMF detector somewhere in the basement.

  * ●●●●



They do have an EMF detector in the basement. It is one of the rare occasions where Diego is not furious that their Dad is a cold, stone-hearted scientist wannabe and has all this crazy shit laying within arms' reach. He almost gets into a fight with Luther when he demands to know what he's doing with it because " _I’m Number One and I’m in charge_ ”, so he really hopes Dean is right. Also, it’s been getting a bit stuffy in the house, he's looking forward to being anywhere but there as much as possible. 

And that includes this bloodbath murder house.

He looks around at the living room, walls, and furniture, and carpet ( _even the damn ceiling_ ) painted in dark, rusty brown of dried blood. Gross.

The floorboards feel sticky underneath his boots and he fiddles with the EMF detector for a moment before making sure it’s on. He slowly waves it around the room- but nothing happens.

He purses his lips and looks around once more. Thankfully, the house is empty, waiting for the relatives to come and clean it out before putting it up for sale, so it gives him an opportunity to snoop around some more. There’s nothing particularly interesting in the house; the man lived alone and had a depressingly large collection of stickers (not even a specific kind) that was kept on their own shelf. He seemed like a bit of a neat freak, too, Diego notices, looking at the speckless furniture and neatly compartmentalized… _everything_. The house looked brand new- right up until he got run over his own lawnmower and sprayed his bits all over the living room.

With that in mind, he makes his way to the backyard. The garage door squeaks when he pushes it up, startling him because he was sure that the guy was oiling the hinges on a weekly- if not daily- basis.

The lawnmower sits there, hiding in shadows of a dark corner. There are small, barely visible specks of blood that somehow managed to land on its shiny, chrome-colored frame. Diego turns on the EMF detector and points it at it. It starts beeping, wailing in warning. His heart stutters in his chest because, _okay,_ he didn’t _actually_ think this would work.

He looks at the machine once more; it suddenly looks more menacing than a grass cutting tool has any right to be. It might be all in Diego’s head, but it seems somehow alive, like it’s present and watching back. A shiver runs up his back, making him shift on his feet uneasily. He’s locked in a staring contest with a damn lawnmower and _almost dies on the fucking spot because his phone goes off and scares him within an inch of his life, holy fucking shit_.

He swears, fumbling to answer it and hisses, “What?” into the speaker.

There’s a beat, a sound of car engine roaring and then, “Am I interrupting something?”

Diego breathes out to calm down, “No. What’s up?”

"Nothing," Dean says and Diego imagines him shrugging, one hand on the wheel, "just thought to check in. We're going to an old family friend's place to restock on some stuff. How's the case going?"

Diego looks warily at the lawnmower before answering, “Hunt. And good, for now.”

Dean is quiet for a moment, “So it is a poltergeist?”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh,” Dean says, “well, then you really gotta watch out real good.”

“Yeah, right,” Diego says, enough of a person to admit to himself that he’s slightly disappointed Dean’s not offering to come and help him.

Honestly, he doesn’t think that he can’t take down a ghost on his own- it would just be nice if Dean kept his promise to give him a hand if he ever calls. And okay, they've been in touch since Diego left Sterling, exchanging texts and an occasional phone call when they both have time to talk at the same time- and Diego knows that not all families are the same; Dean is probably more than happy to spend time with his dad and brother.

 But this is monsters related ( _and it would be nice to talk to Dean face-to-face_ ). _Ugh_ , Diego has to stop thinking about it or he’ll get a headache.

“You have an idea who the poltergeist is?”

Diego palms the back of his head, drumming his fingers on the skin just behind his ear, "Not yet."

He casts another glance at the lawnmower and scowls at it.

Dean hums in response.

He gets out of the garage and closes the door again because the atmosphere was giving him heebie-jeebies.

“Well, most often, the poltergeist is the person that all the victims knew,” Dean tells him.

Diego nods. It makes sense. _Kinda. He thinks_.

“I’ll keep it in mind. Safe driving,” he says, walking back to the house.

“Good luck,” Dean says back before ending the call.

Diego goes through the guy's personal things again; he takes stock of all the faces in photo albums, and a stray postcard from Spain and Canada, but eventually- when his stomach makes it clear it would like some food- he leaves.

  * ●●●●



He went through another house- the guy who fell from his balcony- after lunch and found pretty much nothing. The guy was a loner, as it seems, no photos, or anything. It made him sort of sad; the guy died and has nobody to mourn him. Like he didn’t even exist in the first place.

He’s just about done with his dinner when his phone goes off.

He chokes on his last sip of juice when he sees Klaus’ name on the screen and tries to cover it up with a cough.

“Hello? Klaus?” He asks.

“Hey, man,” an unfamiliar voice answers, making his stomach turn, “listen, your buddy here doesn’t look too good.”

Diego scrambles out of the booth and throws some cash on the table, “Klaus? What- what’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, he’s mumbling some shit and shaking. Looks pretty freaked out.”

Diego curses, rushing outside and towards the beat car he fought tooth and nail for with Dad, “Fuck, okay. Can you stay with him until I get there?”

Silence.

“Please? I’m on my way,” he begs.

The guy on the other side sighs, “Alright, I’ll keep him company.”

Diego sighs, jumping into the driver’s seat and firing up the engine, “Thanks. Now, where did you say you are?”

  * ●●●●



When he gets to the shop, the guy immediately shoves Klaus’ phone in his hand and peels off, leaving the two of them alone. Diego’s heart sinks when he sees him.

Klaus is curled up in the corner between the store’s wall and one of those removable mini billboard thingies. He’s hugging his knees, a bottle with a bit of some kind of a brown liquid still at the bottom clutched in his shaking hands. His head is down, almost shoved all the way in his knees and Diego can barely hear him whispering frantically to himself, talking so fast Diego can’t tell the words apart.

He slowly approaches him, crouching down in front of him. “Hey, Klaus,” he says gently, laying a hand on his forearm.

Klaus starts to scream. The bottle swings inches away from Diego’s face and smashes against the asphalt a few feet away.

“No! No! I said leave me alone! I don’t want-“

“Klaus!”

“Fuck off, you leech!”

“Klaus! It’s me! It’s Diego!”

Something pierces through the fog in his head, and Klaus looks at him, his whole body sagging with a shuddering breath he lets out, the fight leaving him along with it.

His eyes water up and he flings his arms around Diego’s neck with a sob.

_Jesus fuck_. Diego has no idea what he’s on, but when he finds out, the guy’s gonna have to find another way to count cash because his fingers won’t be useful anymore.

“Di-ego,” Klaus cries, “you have to leave. He’s watching. He’s watching.”

Diego frowns, looking around- however much he can with Klaus hanging around his neck, “What? Who’s watching, Klaus?”

Klaus sobs, "You can't see him," he whispers and cold shivers run over Diego, like a bucket of ice-cold water dropped on his head. This is not a bad trip.

He swallows, “It’s okay,” he says. Klaus cries harder.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, wresting Klaus off of him so he can look him in the eyes, “Listen to m-me, he won’t hurt you, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

Klaus nods, but he’s still crying and, shit, Diego doesn’t know what to do. He can’t do comfort; he’s the last person who knows what to say when someone’s crying. Someone needs to have their ego balloon popped? He’s your guy. This? No.

Still, he puts an awkward hand on Klaus’ back and pats him twice, biting down on saying “there, there”. Klaus mewls sadly, clutching at him and shivering. He has to be cold, dressed in skinny, dark ripped jeans and a T-shirt that is more of a crop top if Diego’s being honest.

“Hey,” he says, nudging him and spying a 24/7 diner down the street, “how about we go somewhere warmer. You’re hungry, right?”

Klaus sniffs, nodding, “I want waffles.”

Diego’s lips twitch into a tiny grin, “Waffles it is.”

  * ●●●●



Diego wakes up in a room that is not his own- and the sound of a chainsaw coming from his right. He cracks his eyes open and looks at Klaus on the bed opposite to his. He’s still passed out, completely wiped out and dead to the world, sleeping on his side, the position Diego wrestled him into when they get into the room so he doesn’t choke on his own puke if whatever was in his system turns on him. His mouth is open and Diego is truly amazed that he hasn’t woken himself yet with how loud he’s snoring.

He sits up and scrubs a hand over his face to wipe off any remains of sleep. Head cushioned on his palms, his fingers almost absently find the scar on his cheekbone. He traces his fingertips over it, eyes trained on Klaus and trying to figure out what to do.

Eventually, Klaus stirs and wakes up with a snort. He squints at Diego, head probably pounding like a marching drum, and says, "I feel like I had the best cathartic experience _ever_ last night, but I don’t remember anything.”

Diego blinks at him, “Probably because you were drunk off your ass.”

Klaus sighs into the pillow, “Yeah, probably. We have any food?”

“No.”

"But you're gonna go get us some?" He tries for an innocent look, but it doesn't exactly work due to dark smudges of eyeliner surrounding his eyes.

Diego levels him with an unimpressed look. _He’s getting a bit hungry too, though_.

He gets up with a sigh, “Fine. But we’re not having waffles for breakfast.”

“ _Aww, no._ ”

“Don’t complain. You’re lucky I’m feeding you at all,” Diego says, but they both know it’s bullshit. If Diego really wanted to, he could have left Klaus to fend for himself from the moment he left the Academy.

Klaus makes a noise that makes it clear what he thinks about that.

He throws Klaus’ phone at him, “Stay here and call if anything happens.”

“Yessir,” Klaus jokes, sitting up as well and drumming his fingers on his thighs.

Diego rolls his eyes and leaves, wondering what else can they have for breakfast that’s not waffles.

  * ●●●●



Dean calls him while he’s standing in the checkout line, a box of waffles glaring up at him mockingly.

“Hm?”

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Diego looks out front as the line moves at snail’s pace and sighs, “Slowly.”

“Uh-huh, the trail’s gone cold?” Dean asks.

Diego pops his knuckles, making a face at the old lady’s back in front of him, “Not exactly. I… got kinda distracted.”

“You got distracted from the hunt?” Dean asks, a bit judgmental.

Diego scowls, “Kinda. It was a family thing.” _The case would move forward if you were here to help_.

He dismisses the thought as soon as it forms in his mind, shuffling half a step forward. He doesn’t even understand why he’s so hung up on that.

“Oh,” Dean says, “Right, sorry. Was it about your brother?”

Diego’s hand stills in the process of popping his left index’s knuckle. He tries not to think about Ben as much as he can; if he did, he thinks he’d go insane in that house.

“No, it was- it was actually my other brother. He needed my help,” he says. He scuffs his foot on the linoleum floor, accidentally kicking old lady’s heel. She turns to glare at him and he gives her a sheepish, apologetic look.

The guy behind him snorts and Diego scowls at him over his shoulder. He takes a look at Diego’s face, eyes falling to his scar, and cowers back. _Typical_.

“Oh, okay. Um, well, is he okay now?”

_Probably getting high as we speak_ , he wants to respond. Instead, “It’s up for debate. Anyway, what’s going on over there?”

Dean sighs, “Well, Sammy had another hissy fit with Dad. And we’re all out of lamb’s blood.”

"Gross," Diego responds to the second sentence.

Dean told him his brother and dad don’t always get along, and that they argue a lot, but Diego can’t stand Dad and his relationship with his siblings is fucked, so he tries to contribute as little as possible whenever Dean brings it up.

Dean doesn’t always get the hint, though.

“Can’t he just…you know, not question everything Dad does? I’m not saying Sam’s stupid, but he’s still a kid. And Dad is… _Dad_. Like, he probably knows better.”

Diego simply hums.

“And so what if we’re moving around all the time? Some people never set a foot outside their lame, perfect, boring little towns. And we’re actually doing something good here-“

“Maybe Sam doesn’t want that,” Diego finds himself saying and silently curses himself. He looks up at blinding, artificial lights on the ceiling and waits for all hell to break loose.

“You’re on his side?” Dean asks slowly, sounding betrayed. It hurts Diego even though he doesn’t get why.

He looks around, trying to find something to keep his mind from running off, “I’m not taking sides, Dean. I’m just saying that maybe Sam wants a perfect, boring little town.”

“Why the hell would he want that?”

He sighs, “It’s not a bad thing-“

“And how would you know? He’s my brother, not yours.”

He scowls, glaring at the floor, “I didn’t say he was. I’m saying you should give him a benefit of doubt. Not everyone wants to be a h-hero, Dean,” he says and hangs up because he _so_ doesn’t want to get into a fight over a phone while waiting to pay for a _box of_ _fucking waffles_.

  * ●●●●



Klaus is laying o the bed and smoking a joint when he gets back. He stomps to the kitchenette and digs around until he finds the waffle iron and plugs it in. He scowls at his boots while he waits for it to heat up.

“Ohh,” Klaus says, lifting up on his elbows, “someone’s pissed,” he says.

“I’m not in the mood, Klaus,” he says because the last thing he needs is a fight with Klaus in the middle of this mess.

Klaus pouts, but reads between the lines and plops back down, humming to himself.

It’s not that Diego is mad- okay, no, he is mad ( _so mad_ ). It’s Dean and his betrayed voice like Diego doesn’t have a right on opinion. He likes Dean, and he gets where he’s coming from, but good God if he’s not one of most stubborn people that Diego knows. And in league with Dad and Luther, it’s a feat. Diego gets Sam too, and if the kid doesn’t want to spend his life fighting the good fight, then he better get out while he still has a chance.

He shoves the waffles into the iron and waits.

He hears Klaus exhale.

“You want a hit?”

His scowl deepens, “No.”

Klaus makes a dismissive noise and Diego looks over at him. He’s skin and bones, and he’s always been skinny, but now he just looks like a washed out shell of who he was when they were kids.

_Yeah, if Sam wants out, he better gets out while he has a chance_. Diego won’t apologize to anyone, not even to Dean, for thinking so.

  * ●●●●



They’re in a Wal-Mart, out of all places, when Klaus gets bad again. Diego notices the head flinches first, then the rapid blinking, and Klaus saying, “No, no, go away.”

He looks around the (thankfully) empty aisle, teeth grinding because this is a shitty place for the dead to come bother him at.

“Just fuck off,” he hisses venomously, even though he feels ridiculous for talking to air.

Klaus makes a choked off noise, eyes frantically looking between him and whoever it is that he can see.

“Diego, don’t,” he says- and shivers along with Diego as the temperature drops down so fast it hurts to breathe.

_Shit_.

His eyes go wide and he grabs Klaus’ wrist, his other hand digging his phone out of his pocket.

He punches in the number, hoping that the bastard is not mad enough to ignore him and starts running when the milk crates burst on their left.

Their respective sneakers and boots squeak across the shiny linoleum as they run, hell spilling out behind them.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up, you _stubborn jackass_ ,” he hisses, pulling Klaus to the right when a set of plates pistols towards them.

Klaus shrieks in surprise just as Dean says, “What?”

"What the fuck do you do when a ghost tries to kill you?"

Dean splutters, “Wha- are you kidding me?”

Diego swears, sneers out, “ _Do I sound like I’m fucking kidding?_ ”

“Right, right. Uh, salt. You need salt.”

“Salt?!” Diego yells incredulously.

“ _Salt?!_ ” Klaus parrots and adds, “Oh my God, we will die.”

“Yeah, salt,” Dean says, either ignoring or not hearing him, “make a circle and stand in it, don’t leave unless the coast is clear. Find something made of pure iron, ghosts hate that shit.”

A light bulb explodes above their heads and they both swear.

“Shit, fine, thanks. Talk to you later.”

“Wait, Diego, don’t ha-“ Diego shoves the phone back in his pocket and pulls Klaus to where he’s _pretty sure_ salt containers stand.

He snatches one, tosses one to Klaus and together they make a circle (it looks more like an ellipse, but fuck it, Dean didn’t say it has to be perfect) and then step in it.

It’s still cold as hell, and Diego can’t see or hear shit, so his adrenaline is off the charts probably. His heart is beating like it’s trying to break out of his chest. Klaus clutches at his hand, standing close and looking around, searching.

He makes a distressed noise, eyes trained at a spot down the aisle. Diego tries as subtly as possible to shift a bit in front of him. He tries to follow Klaus’ eyes, follow the movement of this ghost that for some reason has hots for his brother. Right now, Diego might as well be blind; that’s how much his sight helps him here.

At one point, Klaus’ grip on his hand hardens, and he tries to pull Diego back, closer to the middle of the circle.

Diego feels eyes on him, like two holes boring into his soul. He stares right ahead, blind to whoever stands in front of him, but still feeling their presence like something rotten in the fruit bowl.

Klaus’ hand grips his like a vice, so hard Diego feels tears welling up in his eyes, like his fingers are about to get crushed. But he’ll be damned if he shakes Klaus off. He simply lets him squeeze his hand while his vision blurs.

There’s a gust of cold, _cold_ air in his face- and then nothing.

Klaus sags against his side, his hand still holding onto Diego’s, but limply, barely. “He’s gone,” he says, “he’s gone.”

_For now_ , Diego thinks. He has to get rid of this fucker and he has to get rid of him soon.

“Can I get my hand back now?”

“…In a bit.”

He sighs, but lets Klaus hold his hand a while longer.

  * ●●●●



They’re sitting on a bed in the room Diego rented last night (he was not going to bring Klaus, freaked out as he was, to the mansion), silence stretching and broken only by a hiss of the lighter Klaus is trying to light up.

Diego’s eyes follow the white line of salt they laid down all around as soon as they arrived. The clerk had let them takes about ten containers without a fuss and a single penny out of Diego’s wallet- the poor guy was probably about five times more freaked out than they were.

“So,” Klaus says, finally managed to light up his joint, “who was that?”

“Who was who?”

“Our knight in a shiny armor.” Klaus specifies and Diego winces. _Right, explanation time_. He’ll just keep it as curt as possible.

 “A friend,” he says simply.

Klaus grins, “ _Ohh, a friend._ ”

Diego shakes his head, feeling his cheeks heat up, “No, no, nuh-uh. Not _a friend_ , just a friend.”

Klaus lights up in delight at his reaction, guffawing, “Uh-huh, _sure_.”

Diego sighs because this could go on forever. And he would very much like to stop it right now; before Klaus gets really carried away.

“Gee, you’re welcome for saving your life, Klaus,” he says in response.

“ _Aw_ ,” Klaus coos, leaning into him and draping an arm around his shoulders, “thanks for saving my life, you’re _the bestest_ brother in the whole wide world _ever_.”

Diego snorts, “Not bad. Less sarcasm would be nice.”

“Take what you can get and don’t nitpick,” Klaus responds, gesturing around with his joint.

  * ●●●●



“Hey, you know, phones are wild. They have this tiny green button- _that you’re supposed to press to answer a fucking call._ ”

Diego keeps the phone away from his ear for a beat longer, in case Dean feels like yelling some more, then says calmly, “Sorry, I was busy _running for my life_.”

Dean grumbles, “Well, you don’t need your hands to run, do you? You could’ve, I don’t know, not hang up.”

Diego rolls his eyes, “No offense, but I had more pressing matters at hand than chatting with you. Maybe, we could’ve talked if _you_ answered your phone sooner.”

Dean is quiet, Diego’s jab hitting the target, and sighs into the speaker.

“You’re right. Sorry, I- Sorry,” he apologizes. Diego chews at the inside of his cheek, feeling silently pleased. People don’t really apologize to him _ever_ ; he can feel good about an apology every once in a while.

He hums.

“You’re in one piece?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, squirming. The question makes him feel nice, and yeah, Mom asks him similar things, but this is different. Dean is not obliged to ask about his wellbeing- or to care, for that matter.

“Well, that’s good. What happened?”

“We had an unexpected guest on our grocery run.”

“ _We?_ ” Dean asks. He either doesn’t try or masks his surprise very badly.

“My brother and I,” Diego responds, popping his knuckles again.

“Shit. He’s okay, too?”

Diego throws a glance at the closed bathroom door, can just hear water running and Klaus singing something to himself.

He shrugs even though Dean can’t see him, “As okay as he can be.”

Silence follows his response. He thinks Dean tries to say something, giving up before words leave his mouth, so he stays quiet and waits.

“Listen,” Dean says at last, “I want- I’m sorry for going off on you. When we talked about Sam,” he says like Diego needs a reminder.

“He’s my brother. Hell, he’s all I’ve got, I can’t just…let him leave.”

Diego scoffs silently, “I get it. Okay? But that’s not your decision to make. Or your Dad’s.”

“He’s safer with us,” Dean says.

“Hunting?”

“Being able to protect himself. Keeping his guard up,” Dean responds surely.

Diego takes a moment to collect his thoughts; no need to get Dean’s feathers ruffled so soon again.

“Dean, you can arm him with all the guns you have and trained or not, he’s not going to pull the trigger unless he wants to,” he says, and then- because he needs Dean to get this- he adds, “you might as well have him point it at his own head. That’s when he won’t be safe anymore. That’s when the gun might accidentally go off.”

_It sounds bad_ , he knows, _and emotionless_. But he’d die to have someone tell him the same while Ben was still alive.

He can hear Dean swallow audibly on the other side, wonders if he’d gone too far.

“I’m… okay, I- I guess I get what you’re saying. Just,” Dean hesitates, “is this about your brother? A little bit?”

Diego would bristle at the conversation shift, but, “Yeah. It is about my brother.”

“What happened to him?”

Diego grips his phone almost painfully, suddenly feeling dull and detached, eyes staring at the line of salt unblinkingly.

“Something horrible,” he responds quietly, refusing to think about the event.

Dean is quiet again, just breathing into the speaker.

The water stops flowing and Klaus’ voice comes through more clearly; it jolts Diego out of his trance, has him clearing his throat and saying, “Nothing I can do about it now. Gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.”

Klaus swings the door open just as Dean hangs up, steam rolling out behind him. He looks at the windowsill and then turns to grin at Diego, eyes flicking to the phone in his hand.

"Did I interrupt your conversation with your _friend_?”

Diego doesn’t take the bait and just sighs- he does that a lot around Klaus, “No.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Klaus shrugs, “If you say so,” and looks out the window again. Not much of a view though; a brick wall of the building next door.

  * ●●●●



“Okay,” Diego says, pushing away his (almost) empty plate, “what does that ghost want from you?”

Klaus stops, Diego’s discarded slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. He shrugs stiffly, “What do I know? Maybe he’s into me, I mean, look at me. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

_This_ then takes a huge bite out of the slice and starts chewing obnoxiously. Diego arches an eyebrow at him.

“Right. I’m serious, Klaus,” he huffs, “I’m trying to help you here.”

Klaus swallows and takes a sip of his coke before answering, his expression ( _at least_ ) turning sober.

“I don’t know. He said something about my energy? Some bullshit about giving it to him. Like that’s actually possible. I mean, it’s nonsense, Diego. Besides, he can’t actually hurt me- he’s a ghost,” Klaus laughs and Diego’s going to get an aneurysm.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “but did that Wal-Mart episode get completely wiped out of your memory?”

Klaus shift in a way that says that he’s definitely aware of the Wal-Mart episode. And what is that talk about energy?

He shakes his head, “What kind of your ‘energy’ does he want and why?”

Klaus makes a strangled noise, “I don’t know, okay! It’s not like he bothered to sit me down to have a chat about it.”

Diego huffs. _Of course. It wouldn’t be that easy_.

“Okay. Let’s keep calm. Do you remember when he…appeared?”

“A few weeks I guess,” Klaus responds, chewing.

Diego nods.

  * ●●●●



“In theory, is it possible for a ghost to take living person’s energy?”

Dean is silent for a moment.

“ _What?_ ”

“Ghosts. Can they steal human energy or whatever?”

“…I have no fucking idea. Where did you get that?” Dean asks him, bewildered.

Diego rolls his eyes, “Long story that I don’t feel like retelling. Can you, I don’t know, look it up somewhere or something?”

“ _Oh, yeah, sure, lemme just find a computer_ ,” Dean tells him sarcastically.

“Dean.”

“There’s not exactly a lot of books on ghosts,” Dean says apologetically.

Diego sighs, “Can you at least try?”

Dean groans into the speaker, “Ugh, fine. But I’m warning you, it’s probably gonna come up empty.”

“Thanks. Call back anyway.”

“Sure thing.”

Four hours later, his phone wakes him up from his nap and his eyes fall on Klaus, snoring with his face in the pillow. He should probably do something before he smothers.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, so, I found nothing, but- _hey!_ ” Dean cuts off, and Diego frowns at the sound of the phone passing between hands.

“Diego, hi.”

Diego blinks, “Sam. Uh, hi?”

“Dean said you want to know if ghosts can steal human energy,” Sam states as means of an explanation.

“Yeah, you got something?” Diego asks hopefully.

Sam hums, “So get this. Ghosts can’t come back to life, but they can technically leech off human life energy. It would make them, um, more human-looking. And more powerful.”

“Oh, that- that doesn’t sound good. How do you keep them from doing that?”

“Hold your horses. The thing is, they can’t really leech it off anyone. Their…ghost energy, I guess, is not really compatible with your everyday, human life energy.”

“Meaning?”

"The person would either need to be a psychic or a medium. Necromancer would work best because they're always in touch with the death, it, ah, kinda seeps into them, I suppose."

“How do you know that?” Dean says in the background.

“Oh,” Diego says because Klaus could technically, he thinks, go under each of those categories. _Fantastic_.

“Okay, so how do you keep them from doing that?”

“Well,” Sam says, “you just say no. Though, they can turn-“

“Into evil, violent fucks?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yeah. Sorry I can’t help more,” Sam apologizes.

“Don’t sweat it, you helped plenty. Thanks.”

The phone gets passed over again, then Dean speaks up.

“So, you have a plan?”

Diego shrugs, “Maybe. I mean, I can’t do anything but find who he is and…burn his remains.”

“I guess not. Is the ghost trying to leech off you?”

Diego shakes his head, glancing at Klaus, “No, my brother.”

Dean is quiet and Diego imagines him shaking his head.

“You guys really have shitty luck, you know that?”

"Oh, I'm aware," Diego replies dryly.

  * ●●●●



“I need you to tell me about that ghost.”

Klaus makes a face, burrowing his head into the pillow. “ _Again?_ ” He whines.

“Yes, again,” he nudges him, “C’mon. When did he first show up? Try being a bit more specific than ‘a few weeks ago’.”

Klaus groans, “I don’t know, three, maybe four weeks ago? It’s not like I’m sober enough to pay attention to time.”

That is sadly true.

Diego sighs. Three-four weeks ago. That- that’s a bit after the freak accidents started happening.

He stills. No way.

Klaus peeks up at him, “What’s that face?”

“Get up,” Diego tells him.

“But why? I’m comfy.”

Diego looks at him, “We’re going to kick that ghost’s invisible ass.”

Klaus looks doubtful, but crawls out the bed after a promise of waffles. He is such a child sometimes.

  * ●●●●



Diego takes them to the ‘lawnmower accident’ house first, but it looks like the family already cleaned everything out and put the house up for sale. They skip the ‘balcony accident’ apartment altogether because it was devoid of any pictures anyway and head to the ‘garbage disposal accident’ apartment instead.

They’re huddled around the door, Diego this close to picking the lock, when the door behind them opens with a creak. They spin around, trying to look as non-sketchy as possible.

The lady is watching them suspiciously, eyeing Klaus’ colorful outfit and Diego’s face with distaste.

“Do you young men need something?”

Diego clears his throat and speaks before Klaus digs them into a hole, “Hi, yeah. Um, our aunt here, you see, died recently. We were hoping to pick up some of her things, as memorabilia.”

“Yes, we are just devastated by her passing away,” Klaus contributes, screwing his face up into a mournful expression.

The lady looks between the two of them doubtfully, “You’re related?”

“Adoptive brothers,” Diego says.

She hums.

“The landlord already put the apartment up for renting,” she informs them. Diego’s heart drops because that means all the stuff is gone, probably thrown away.

“But I was thinking some family might come looking for her things. Come in, I took in as much as I could.”

Diego blinks and hurries after Klaus when she steps aside to let them in, “Everything is in the guest room.”

“Thank you,” he says following after Klaus in the direction she pointed at.

Together they enter the room, the floor covered in cardboard boxes filled to the top with clothes, books, and various other knick-knacks.

They sigh at the same time, sharing a look.

“I wish a had a joint,” Klaus says.

“Shut up and just start looking.”

  * ●●●●



Diego is going through some newspaper clippings and old photos when Klaus speaks up for the billionth time.

“Hey, how tacky would it be if I wore a dead woman’s clothes because this top is fabulous.”

Diego looks up at him. He’s holding up a dark red shirt with a V cut and bare back. It’s not something Diego would expect to find in a closet of a 40 years old woman, but hey, who is he to judge. He can judge Klaus though.

“What? Red makes my eyes pop,” Klaus justifies himself at the look Diego aims at him. Then he squints at him.

“You know, you’d look good in green,” he tells him.

“Green?”

Klaus nods, “Yeah, yeah. What? Green can be a very sexy color, for your information.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Diego responds dryly.

Klaus opens his mouth again, but his eyes fall to the photo Diego has in his hand and he yelps.

“That’s him!” He exclaim-hisses, pointing a finger at one of the faces smiling at them.

“You’re sure?”

He nods frantically, his curls bouncing with the movement.

“I mean, he was less smiley when I saw him, but yeah, definitely him.”

Diego tosses him the photo and looks around for the yearbook he put down somewhere. He finds it and snatches up in his lap, then starts to leaf through it.

Klaus crawls over to him, looking at the pages over his shoulder.

“There!” He pokes at the photo of their guy, “Richard Stroker, yikes. I’d turn into a ghost with a name like that too.”

Diego only snorts and shuts the book.

“Alright, we have what we came for. Let’s go,” he pulls Klaus to his feet and they make their exit.

  * ●●●●



After a short trip to the library, they make their way to the cemetery. Klaus helps with digging by providing a running commentary that Diego can focus on instead of thinking how he’s, in fact, digging up a 20 years old grave.

He huffs, shoveling up another load of dirt. He really hopes he didn’t miss the grave because it’s going to be hell digging it all up again. Just as he’s about to say so, his shovel makes a dull, thudding noise, hitting something solid. He throws it up on the grass and bends down to pry open the casket.

Klaus stops his babbling and walks closer to the hole Diego had dug up, peering down at it.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but he manages to fling it open, suppressing a shudder at the pair of black pits staring up at him, jaw open in a silent scream.

Klaus makes an exaggerated full body shudder, “ _Ugh_ , I’m getting heebie-jeebies.”

“Uh-huh,” Diego agrees, his breath coming out as a white puff of air. It’s cold. Way colder than it was supposed to be.

Not again.

Klaus swears, standing straight and eyes focused on something in the distance. “Whatever you’re planning on doing,” he starts, “you better do it fast because our friend is not looking happy.”

Diego lets out a string of curses as well and scrambles out of the grave, making a grab for a can of salt and pouring it over the bones. The wind picks up, stinging his eyes and howling in his ears.

“Diego,” Klaus says in warning; he doesn’t even have to say anything else, the ‘ _hurry the fuck up_ ’ is loud and clear.

“Fuck,” he says, fumbling with a cap of the canister of petroleum.

“Diego!” Klaus hisses, nudging him in the shoulder with his knee.

“Give me a sec!”

“We don’t have a sec!”

He pours the petroleum into the grave, hears a loud screeching scream resonating in his skull as he tries to light up one of the matches. His breathing is coming out faster, mind reeling and tripping over itself- he doesn’t think he’d be able to speak now even if he tried.

“ _Diego, fuck damnit!_ ” Klaus swears and grabs his ankles when he leans into the grave to find some shelter from the wind and light up a match.

He drops it and rolls out just as the flames rush out, crackling and puffing out smoke. There’s another scream, blood-freezing, and Diego turns to the source of sudden light to find a figure being eaten up by flames. His breath catches.

_This is what a ghost looks like_ , his mind supplies hysterically.

The ghost twists and turns, screaming and wailing, flickering in and out of existence- until he’s just gone.

“Ohhh, _fuck_ ,” Klaus intones next to him once they catch their breath, breaking the silence unceremoniously.  He does sound relieved, though.

“What?”

“I’m gonna need so many drugs after this.”

Diego sighs and doesn’t respond.

  * ●●●●



He holds the phone to his ear, turning over the bills in his other hand as he walks down the street. He took just enough to cover the food and drinks, leaving his wallet and the jacket in the room with Klaus.

“Diego? Tell me you’re not being chased by a ghost again,” Dean says as soon as he picks up.

Diego rolls his eyes, “No. We’re done with that.”

“…you are?”

He hums, “Yep, just got back from the cemetery.”

“Huh, nice. You good?”

“Dandy. Say, do ghosts always glitch out when you, uh, kill them? So to speak.”

“Usually, yeah. So what’s your first impression on ghosts?” Dean asks and Diego scowls almost automatically.

“Fucking pains in the ass,” he says, ignoring the look he gets from a couple that passes next to him.

Dean cracks up, “Oh, man, you sound so pissed,” he says between the chuckles.

Of course he’s pissed; he almost died- _twice_ \- in the last few days and he didn’t even get to stab the fucker.

“Are you glowering at something? You are so glowering at something,” Dean says.

Diego catches his reflection in a shop’s window and he is glowering, “No,” not that Dean needs to know that.

“ _Sure._ ”

_Why does nobody believe anything he says?_

He makes a face at the ground and asks, “Sam and your dad are still fighting?”

Dean sighs, "Not at the moment. Dad went out with Bobby- the friend we're staying with- to grab some supplies, so they're having a break from each other."

Diego hums eagerly, “Breaks are good.” If he didn’t take a break from his family every now and then, things would be…well, much worse than they are.

“I guess…” Dean agrees reluctantly. He clears his throat, “Hey, um, I think we’re going your way after we’re done here, so maybe we could, I don’t know, team up again?”

Diego feels jitters passing through him. He bites down on a smile.

“Unless you’re too cool for that after taking on a ghost on your own,” Dean adds before he can respond.

Diego barks out a laugh, “Fuck you,” he says, grinning at the sound of Dean laughing as well.

  * ●●●●



“Klaus? They didn’t have strawberry, so you’ll just have to deal with…” he trails off when he notices that the room is empty.

His jacket lays discarded on the bed he claimed for himself, spread out, and he sets the drinks and donuts on the small table in the kitchenette before going to grab it.

His wallet is empty. _Figures_.

He’s not surprised- or particularly disappointed for that matter. If he’s being honest, he was expecting it; it would be weirder if Klaus decided to stick around.

He sighs and drops into one of the chairs. He tears off a piece of a donut- vanilla filling- before popping it in his mouth and chews listlessly.

If anything, at least, his family is not lacking money. _What a consolation_.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, it has occurred to me- sometime while writing this- that this series might turn ship-y. As in Dean/Diego. But for now, I'm just going with whatever that up there is. Just wanted to let you guys know. :D


End file.
